


Corvus (The Crow)

by rainmaker (hexagonalslugs)



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Avians, Child Abuse, Constellations, M/M, Physical Abuse, Rating May Change, Rentboy Eggsy, Slow Burn, Spies & Secret Agents, Verbal Abuse, Wingfic, also unwilling drug lackey Eggsy, alternative gender types/sexualities, but also space, it's weird but it will make sense, like HELLA SLOW, lots of weird star and bird shit, more characters will come, mostly probably Eggsy POV, space birbs, there are some unimportant OMC and OFC later on, violence and gore will happen, warnings will probably happen later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-26 08:54:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4998544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexagonalslugs/pseuds/rainmaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are Humans, and there are some that are a little bit more. Not quite non-Humans, but a bit more. Avians exist alongside Humans as just another branch of mankind, beings that appear more or less humanoid to the layman and the naked eye, their history and past lost as Humankind advanced. Now, they are simply people who have extra eyelids, or nictitating membranes, sometimes express wings and feathers, and surpass the Human average strength and endurance. There are, as with Humans, haves and have-nots, and Eggsy is one that falls in between, caught between ignoring his physiology and trying to become it. Because of where he's ended up ever since his father died, it just seems so much easier to forget about it and lie low, but he just can't forget that one curious man dressed to the nines and the phrase "Oxfords, not Brogues." He doesn't even know what that means, and he certainly doesn't know what it means to be a gentleman, Human, or Avian, but perhaps he could learn, if only he could smooth out the chip in his shoulder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Growing Up

**Author's Note:**

> This hasn't been, and probably won't ever be "brit-picked" it's mostly just what I feel like it should 'sound' like.
> 
> There's no implied abuse or anything yet, and I will be notating at the beginning of the chapter(s) that contain it, and/or other warnings that may apply.
> 
> The Prologue, also known as The Christmas (caps important) and Eggsy's Achilles' Heel is his Back and also Sorry-It's-Written-In-Circles
> 
> Please enjoy!

A gentleman never tells about conquests, private matters, or dealings. Their business is nobody else’s.

Of course, that would be something far from Eggsy’s personal arsenal of knowledge, with a foundation of street smart cement and scaffolding of trial, error, and hard learned mistakes.

And one of those mistakes was not keeping his front to his adversaries. A blow to the back, even a glancing one could nearly incapacitate him, which he had figured out the hard way in Early Years. Once he’d caught his breath, he made sure to pay back that bully what he was owed. People always made fun of what they didn’t understand (as well as insisting that purple was a girl color), and even though Eggsy was young, and Mum had stopped talking about it ever since Da died, he knew a lot of people, regular people, didn’t understand.

See, most people don’t have things like nictitating membranes over their eyes. These, Eggsy learned in Primary at about age 7, were like an extra eyelid, somewhat clear enough to see through that could cover his eye and still protect it. Looking through them was like looking through hazy, white smoke, and they moved independently from the regular eyelid. It was also rude to blink with those instead of his regular eyelids, which he assumed was probably why that bully in Early Years was so livid over. Eggsy, on the other hand, thought they were top. He could swim without getting water in his eyes, get as rough and tumble outside as he wanted without worrying about sand and dirt, and was generally unfazed by most things of the dusty sort flying at his face. It still hurt proper if he got hit in the eye, Dean made that very clear.

Eggsy ate a lot. And he ate ravenously at almost all hours of the day, even picked up extra curricular activities just because there was food at the events. It did turn out that gymnastics was a lot of fun. Mum didn’t tell him, but Eggsy was sure she was glad he found a way to burn off all that energy. Or at least, more of it than usual – but all of this happened after The Christmas.

The Christmas, capital The and Christmas, was the day that man came to visit Mum. It was warm, and Eggsy liked that place. It was much bigger than where he and Mum ended up after, but Eggsy never complained about that. That night was December 24th, and the year was 1997, and the man that came to see Mum was wearing a suit, and he was incredibly sad, even if he didn’t show it on the outside.

He spoke with Mum, tried to give her something (it was shiny, Eggsy had noticed immediately, even though the snow globe in his hands was very sparkly). He heard him say “Oxfords, not Brogues,” and had no idea what that meant in the faintest, but his voice was smooth. And then he’d know it was them, but Mum said she didn’t want his help, and then she was sobbing into her hands again. Eggsy saw her brushed and well cared for hair getting mussed before he noticed the man crouching down in front of him. He smelled like cinnamon.

“What’s your name, young man?”

Eggsy blinked without blinking, looking up at him from where he sat, “Eggsy,” he piped up, turning the snow globe.

“Hello, Eggsy,” The man said, then paused briefly. He gestured toward the snow globe, “Can I see that?” And Eggsy handed it to him, even though it was one that Da sent him the year before. Then, a small, shiny medal was pressed into Eggsy’s palm, “You take care of this, Eggsy.”

Again, Eggsy blinked without blinking, and the man didn’t look away. “Alright?” The man smiled gently, “and take care of your mom, too.”

The scent of cinnamon stayed even when the man left, and Eggsy still sat on the floor, turning the medal in his hands. It was warming in his palms, and so very shiny. Eventually, he went to his Mum, who was still crying on the couch. He wasn’t sure he wanted the medal if it meant Da wasn’t coming back, but he didn’t say anything, just held on to it and his mum until she was done crying.

That was The Christmas, which also led to Mum beginning to slip into a downward spiral, but it wasn’t instantaneous.

She cried still, weeks, months after, but sometimes it was just an immense sadness that couldn’t be broken no matter what Eggsy tried to do, but she would put on a smile for her little Eggsy with his gap-tooth grin and pale gold-and-purple enamel medal. The boy insisted on wearing it every day, and he had, like a proper medal, pinned to the breast of his shirt as if it were on a lapel. He wore it the first day back from winter break because, like he told Mum, it made him feel like Da was there by his side. He’d said, in particular, by his heart, which just about broke Michelle in half, but she just smiled and waited outside the school until her little Eggsy disappeared inside the front doors.

It was a month later, somewhere midst February that Eggsy got into the fight with the bully. Both boys were brought to the Dean of Students, and both boys’ parents were called in. Eggsy wasn’t sure how the argument went from being about his medal, and ‘purple’s a girlsy color,’ to him being a freak with extra eyelids. His back was still sore from the badly aimed flail that could hardly have been considered a punch – but then again, it was a slap-and-tackle kind of fight. Either way, his medal pin was broken: the pin itself in two parts, and the flimsy chain suspending it was snapped and completely missing.

Eggsy had stopped paying attention to the Dean, and the conversation the adults were having, he was too engrossed in his medal, which he was checking and rechecking methodically for scratches. He brought it up close to his face, peering at it until he was satisfied that it was pristine. None of the enamel chipped, not a single mark on the polished gold surface.

They couldn’t remove him from the school, even as an independent school, there were still national laws protecting those like Eggsy. Human, but different. Human, but more than just that, because Eggsy wasn’t the only one, and it would be a rights violation to discriminate against him just because of what he was, as a member of the Avian species. By all accounts, he was mostly human. He had a more or less human physiology, standing on two feet, with four limbs, none of which included wings, and a suitably un-feathered appearance.

He simply ate a lot, and often had snacks nearby at all times that he loved to share, and had those other eyelids. Eggsy had also noticed he could run a lot longer than a good handful of the other kids, and he was one of the few that no one wanted to play tag with.

In time, Eggsy forgot about the fight over the medal (and no one told him it almost became a lawsuit), because he was too busy learning more things about himself and others like him. Mum also got him a proper chain to put the medal on, so he wore it as a necklace and kept it tucked in his shirt to keep it safe. In Primary, there began studies about Avians and Humans, though most of it never really reached more than a vague expansion on what he learned in Early Years:

_“We blink, we blink, we blink with our eyes,” with your fingers pointing at your eyes, and then you close them,_

_“Close them, all the way, no one sees your spies,” and you touch your eyelids while they’re closed,_

_“So we blink, we blink, we blink with our eyes!”_

Which was a little mantra they had all learned to teach them all not to do exactly what Eggsy did most often, which was blink with the nictitating membrane instead. He did, as previously mentioned, learn that was what they were called, and he was curious about what else there was. Most of what he learned about himself was through trial and error in gymnastics.

He was determined, and the coach most definitely adored him for it, but most of all, it seemed like Eggsy was literally cut out for it. He was flexible, fearless, and strong, and exhibited great endurance. His lungs were larger than the average human, and his heart could pump a higher volume of that highly oxygenated blood. There were technically two gymnastics teams, one Human and one Avian, but Eggsy mingled with both. He liked learning from everyone, and helping everyone, though he competed against fellow Avians. The team was all ages, and was co-ed, because the coach also took care of the local Secondary team. Sometimes, the older kids from Secondary would come, and Eggsy would really learn a lot from them.

It wasn’t always smooth sailing, and not all Eggsy learned about his body was peachy keen. When he fell, which was wont to happen, he almost always got back up to his feet and went right back at it, whether he was trying to perfect a stunt, or learn something new. He had the most trouble when it came to anything he had to remain on his back for any period of time. Cartwheels, flips, aerials, working on the trampoline, he had no problem, but somersaults and rolls really put him off.

The whole aversion to pressure on his back was something so stupidly obvious, Eggsy couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it himself. Avians, the little ones, aviform in physiology - birds, duh - had wings. Avians, the bipedal ones sometimes did, the rest seemed to just report soreness and pain in the upper back. This was something Eggsy didn’t think much about, since his back didn’t hurt, it just got sore sometimes.

Gymnastics had gotten him more protein rich snacks, yes, but it also kept him away from home, which was perfect, sort of. Mum was still slipping, and it seemed like the more independent Eggsy got, the more she slid a little further down her slope. She was seeing someone else, now, ‘round abouts the time Eggsy turned ten. Not someone terrible, but Eggsy had one Da, and he wasn’t about to have another one. Even if he was… okay, making Mum smile more. At least, he thought it was working out. There were flowers at home, sometimes, and new toys for Eggsy, even though they weren’t living in the same, warm place anymore. Eggsy knew it was hard for Mum to take care of him by himself, and this guy seemed to help, even if some nights when he stayed, all he smelled like was cheap alcohol and bad cigarettes.

He avoided that by staying at school and at the gym for as long as was possible. Eggsy didn’t _like_ this guy, but he didn’t exactly hate him.

He was sixteen when Dean finally moved in with Mum and him. Eggsy immediately realized that it wasn’t exactly working out.

 

 

 


	2. Father's Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean moves in, Eggsy tries to avoid him, with varying levels of success. It's suffocating, and Eggsy needs to figure out how to escape, but there isn't much a sixteen year old can do except for exactly what he's told. So he does, for two years, and struggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions and descriptions of abuse in this chapter, both physical and verbal of both Eggsy and Michelle.
> 
> This chapter is so definitely unbeta'd and un-everything'd. I will be fixing mistakes and maybe editing it in the future but right now I am too sleep deprived to even consider the fact that publishing it now might be a bad idea, so here you guys go, aw ye.

Eggsy _hated_ Dean.

Just being around the prick made him feel like he was drowning.

He had thought the guy wasn’t too terrible until he decided that Mum’s house was his house and he suddenly owned the damn place despite the fact that the prick didn’t even pay rent. Eggsy noticed exactly when Mum’s house became Dean’s place, and that was when Rottie and Poodle became semi-permanent fixtures in and around the apartment.

He couldn’t come home from school without running into a gathering of the goons outside, couldn’t walk past them without getting heckled about his gym bag. Going inside didn’t spare him any of the vitriol either, because the boys only did it since Dean did, and Dean had a nasty tongue on him. He always had some comment to make about Eggsy, always had something to laugh about. It wasn’t a nice laugh, either. Michelle used to ask him to lay off, but each time she did, her voice got quieter until eventually, she stopped saying anything at all.

When she stopped asking, Dean seemed to take that as an invitation to get physical. Eggsy learned right quick how to squirrel away from Dean’s ham-fists. The first time that happened was in the spring, and Eggsy missed the gymnastics competition because he’d been nursing a concussion and a new collection of bruised ribs. That, and one of Dean’s boys thought it would be funny to trash his uniform and gym bag. In May, Eggsy quit going to the meets entirely. He had realized that the boys left him alone when he didn’t have anything worth making fun of, and Dean bugged him less for probably the same reason.

Dean came up with a way to use Eggsy’s suddenly bountiful free time.

“Oi, Muggsy.”

Eggsy felt his nose winkle at the slurred voice that barked at him the moment he’d opened the apartment door. Once inside, the place was becoming a right fucking mess. Dean hadn’t been there a year, and already there were crumpled stacks of beer cans and bottles, miscellaneous pieces of trash, and just crap everywhere. It smelled like unwashed people, spoiled leftovers and takeout, with a sour splash of shit, cheap, hoppy alcohol. Eggsy still tried cleaning up sometimes, because he didn’t see Mum trying anymore. Honestly, he just saw her… sitting or lying around with Dean’s arm all over her like she was his property.

Sure enough, that’s what Eggsy saw when he looked over at him on the couch. Michelle was sitting there, more interested in the telly than Eggsy coming home. His eyes snapped back to Dean before the man could go off on him for ignoring him.

“Got sumfin’ for ya t’ do,” Dean said, beckoning him over with the beer can in his hand, “Got sumfin’ for ya t’ pick up, and you gonna do it, give ‘em this, and bring me the bag they give ya.” He pointed at a small backpack, which was honestly more of a knapsack. Dean put down the can and rummaged around in his pocket, then waved the paper he pulled out at Eggsy.

“Better not lose nuffin’, hear me, boy?” Dean raised his hand after Eggsy took the paper from him. “Don’t wanna hurt ya more than I have to.”

He learned not to flinch when Dean lifted his hand or fist, because he’d get just for flinching. Dean hacked out his barking laugh, and Eggsy grit his teeth. “Fine, don’t lose nuffin’,” Eggsy repeated. He lingered for a moment, but Michelle didn’t look over at him, so he left, trading his mostly empty school bag for Dean’s bag.

The paper had two streets written on it, and Eggsy knew it was in a shady part of town, and that it was at the edge of Dean’s territory. His first drop and pickup went without a hitch, literally walking past a couple of Mets like it was nothing. He was just a kid, some random teenager, probably walking home (he took a different route after picking up the cash bag just in case). Eggsy felt invisible, and found himself wishing he could just be that around Dean, too.

When he got home, the apartment was distinctly quiet. The door wasn’t even locked, but no one was home. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with the bag, and didn’t want anything more to do with it, so he just dumped it on the couch and retreated to his room. Eggsy curled up in bed, foregoing the homework he knew he had. He’d do it up in the morning, or maybe a bit later, he just wanted to take a nap, be somewhere else but there for a little bit.

Eggsy was startled awake by a sharp pain, and cried out before he could stop himself. He was still disoriented when Dean dragged him out of bed and out of his room. The man was also shouting things at him, but he still wasn’t completely awake or there yet. He was still seeing white spots. Dean clipped the side of his head with the heel of his hand, and it all suddenly cleared up.

“The fuck’s me money, Muggsy? I’m askin’ you a damn question, LOOK A’ ME WHEN I’M TALKIN’ T’ YA,” Dean grabbed him up by the shirt collar, damn near pulling Eggsy off his feet.

The man absolutely reeked, and Eggsy was not at all keen on the blast of alcohol breath in his face, and definitely not the spit flying from Dean’s lips. The bastard was piss drunk, and it didn’t take much for Eggsy to put together that apparently there was money in the bag, so he pointed at where he’d put it on the couch. “I din’t touch nuffin’ in it, swear down!”

“It’s missin’ a hun’red quid, where’d y’ fuckin’ put it, y’ fuckin’ freak?!”

Eggsy hadn’t even realized he’d flicked the secondary eyelid over his eyes, and squinted. “I din’t take nuffin,’” he said, trying to figure the best way to get his shirt free of Dean’s hand when the other connected with his gut. The punch left him huffing.

“You sayin’ my boys a buncha liars, then? ‘Cause ‘e says ‘e gave it t’ya with all the cash, so the fuck is it?” Dean rifled into his pockets, turning them all inside out. He took the few quid he found, nowhere near what he was claiming was missing, but it was all Eggsy had, so it was obviously worth taking. He went as far as to strip him down to his skivs as if he’d hide it in his clothes. It wasn’t the first time Dean humiliated him similarly in front of at least one of his lackeys, but it still made him burn.

Dean made a guttural scoffing noise and shoved Eggsy down against the couch, pressing his face into the backpack. All it took was another hit across his shoulder blades to overpower him. “You hid it in yer room didn’cha.” Dean yanked Eggsy’s head back by his hair, and all he could do about it was groan.

“I din’ take… nuffin’,” Eggsy said again, but Dean already let go of his hair. He had little choice but to stay there, kneeling on the floor with his head against the couch until his back stopped hurting enough to unlock and let him move. He struggled against the debilitating pain when he heard Dean rooting through his room, dropping things on the floor, throwing them. Eggsy froze when he felt another pair of hands push his shoulders back down again, and failed to bite back a whimper as a white shock of pain locked him up again. He knew from the hot feeling in his eyes and from the taste of salt in his mouth that he was crying. His nose was already beginning to run and stuff up.

He heard Dean clicking his tongue across the room.

“Eggsy, you been naughty, hidin’ money away,” Dean said. Eggsy could hear the mock disapproving look on his face. “What do I say ‘bout money in my ‘ouse?”

When Eggsy didn’t respond quick enough, Dean pushed his thumb into that one terrible point of pain over his shoulder blade. “What do I say?!”

“Is yourmoney!” Eggsy forced himself to say, words blurring together. That earned him a pat, though it was still right over his shoulder blades, so it hurt, and was still a bit harder than necessary.

He heard Dean laugh, and it turned into a hacking cough. “Now I know you’s a good kid Muggsy, y’ just tryna save some up for me,” he said when he regained his breath, just as drunk and unpredictable as ever. Dean ruffled his hair a bit too hard, pushing his face into the couch. Eggsy hoped he didn’t notice his shoulders shaking with sobs, or the muffled sounds he was making.

“Clean this shit up an’ get me sumfin’ t’ drink.”

Eggsy heard Dean move to the ratty chair next to the couch and flick on the telly, but didn’t move. To his left, he heard someone leave and go into the kitchen. The telly continued behind him, and the rustling of paper money and clicking of coins continued while Dean counted out everything Eggsy had. Then, the fridge closed, and the footsteps came back into the room.

“Look at ‘im, little fuck can’t even move.”

Dean snorted, then shoved at Eggsy with his foot. “Oi. Drink. Now, go on, git.”

He drew in a shaky breath, and was well on his way trying to get up when he was unceremoniously shoved out of the way just so that Dean’s lackey could arrange himself on the couch.

“Ugh, ‘es made the couch all soggy n’ shit.”

Eggsy ducked out of range, scrambling to pick up his shirt and pants. He hardly managed to get his pants back on before fumbling for the fridge, which was a task when he was so disoriented. His head was throbbing, his back still seized up and hot with pain. Lifting his arms up enough to even put the shirt on was impossible. Reading the cans and bottles in the fridge was another struggle, so he just grabbed whatever was still in there. In some twisted way he was glad he was in too much pain to think about feeling hungry, because there was literally nothing but alcohol in the fridge. He just knew that Dean liked the tall green one.

He brought it to him, careful not to cross in front of the telly, and beat his retreat before Dean could demand anything else of him.

Dean left him alone for a while after that. There had been no issue at school, since all the marks had bloomed underneath his baggy clothes. Eggsy learned to just hand Dean whatever money he happened to have, and they all fell into a sort of uneasy routine.

Eggsy would come home a few hours after school let out, then he’d go drop off or pick up a ‘package’ for Dean. He’d get paid for doing so, and give that money to Dean. Sometimes Dean would let him keep some of it, but Eggsy had to spend it or hide it before Dean found it. If they were at the Black Prince, there would be a nearly illegible note with directions for Eggsy, and he could only pray that they wouldn’t come home drunk.

Michelle stopped going to work, and turned into an accessory for Dean, if men even had such things. She was there to be a place for him to go, and a fuck, and if Eggsy wasn’t around, something to take his drunkenness or anger out on. He could hit her where he liked, but if he hit Eggsy, he had to be careful, because the boy went to school. That, and it was becoming apparent that Eggsy was stronger than Dean. He wasn’t even seventeen yet, but he could catch and push back a punch. He was still afraid to hit back.

On the other hand, Eggsy kept his back away from Dean as much as possible, kept his head down, and lied a lot. He lied to himself about being okay, lied to his mates, because he only had two and he didn’t know what he’d do if he lost them. He stopped looking into the stuff that made him Avian. He altogether stopped trying to be interested in all of that, and tried to convincingly pretend he was just human.

He made it through another year, and Dean had decided he was Old Enough - which he wasn’t - and tried to sell him as a rentboy. Eggsy shoved him back so hard he had toppled into the coffee table, which broke under his weight. Dean flew into a rage, scrambling back up to throw clumsy punches at Eggsy, who fought back with just as much a lack of finesse. He ended up losing when Rottie and Poodle and the rest of Dean’s shit lackeys teamed up on him.

Eggsy learned that the less trouble he caused, the less angry Dean seemed to be with Michelle, so he spent most of seventeen doing almost everything Dean told him to do, but he drew the line at selling himself. He sold drugs for Dean, did drops and pickups, stole food when he ran out of money, stole things to fence, traded his academics for the crap Dean wanted him to do, and covered up his tracks. He had a plan to get out of this shithole and away from Dean.

It wasn’t entirely true that he traded his academics. Eggsy did the math, he figured out exactly what he needed to do, and exactly how much he could let slide in order to keep his marks just above minimum. Everything he did was to prepare himself for turning eighteen and going to Lympstone to join the Royal Marines. Dean somehow managed to give him shit for it, but even he eventually had to step down in face of the fire in Eggsy’s eyes. Dean nor Michelle asked Eggsy why he so suddenly decided he wanted to join the Marines, and he was glad for that. It was as if Michelle seemed to forget her boy was much more like his father than she wanted to admit, but Eggsy didn’t mind. He had motives he didn’t want to share, not even with her.

This was also about the time Eggsy first told Dean to fuck off, and actually delivered a threat that the man took seriously. He saw less bruises on his Mum after that, and by the time he turned eighteen, it was a regular occurrence to see her smiling. Eggsy spent a year helping her get back on her feet, and cleaned up enough to hold a job again. Dean had no room to complain, since it did mean more money.

Dean was absent on the day Michelle had to see Eggsy off, not that Eggsy could find it in himself to give a fuck.

“You’ll take care of yourself, yeah?” Eggsy said quietly over Michelle’s shoulder. She was hugging him tight on the platform, and didn’t seem inclined to let him go.

He heard her sniffle. “Of course, Eggs,” She replied, finally pulling back some. Eggsy was relieved to still see some of that light he’d worked to rekindle in her eyes. “Now you go on, joinin’ the Marines just like your father… you’d make him proud, luv.”

Eggsy opened his mouth, but was cut off by the train whistle. When it finally stopped, he gripped her upper arms, and promised he’d write her as long as she sent letters back. “Luv ya, Mum,” he said, and then let her go to hop on the train with barely seconds to spare.

For the first time in years he felt like he could breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how this happened, I started writing this chapter, intending to just do an outline and then all of a sudden the entire chapter happened and it's 8 am and I need to sleep I haven't slept since I got up for work yesterday what even is sleep
> 
> Also updated some of the tags and stuff I think I'm gonna bump up the rating because... reasons.
> 
> And I have... little to no personal knowledge about the Royal Marines except for research I've been doing while plotting this fic so please excuse my mistakes with everything that has to do with anything in the UK I don't know what I'm doing here at all. Heeeee.


	3. update (TBD)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a chapter update, but a notice. Will be deleted and replaced with actual chapter when able!

Hey guys! I know it's been a few weeks since i updated, which is probably weird since the other two came so fast, but some stuff's been going on that I think it's only fair to let y'alls know.

I'm working 47 hour weeks at my job, and some 10 hour weeks on game development, more as we hit crunch time over November to hit one of our goals. Unrelated to that, I smashed my finger in my car door on... Friday night (October 23rd, 2015), and the third phalange of my middle finger has a crush fracture at the tip. I can't feel anything on the tip of my finger, and it's currently in a splint, so i can hardly type (or draw or work on my game ffffff). Regardless, I am still doing research, which is my largest setback at the moment. I've been digging into the Royal Marines and the processes in joining, as well as ranks and general military jargon, since I'm more familiar with USMC, and even then it's restricted to video game knowledge (Battlefield, Call of Duty) so it isn't that great. I want to at least base what I'm doing on how the Royal Marines is organized, and how one actually enlists and the training therein.

Anyhow, that's what's up, but don't fret guys, I am working, just much slower because i cant use my right (and dominant) hand until the splint is off to expedite healing (so says the hand specialist im working with at the hospital).

PS if anyone wants to talk to me about the Royal Marines pls do tell me things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> promise to be back up soon!

**Author's Note:**

> agh ack how do write things ????//?
> 
> So uh, yeah there's the first bit um. Next chapter gets into some mentions of abuse (of Eggsy and Michelle). At the moment, I'm not sure how in depth those things will go.
> 
> Anyway yeah I've been planning this fic for a couple months and decided I SHOULD WRITE IT. So I'm writing it. (And I'll probably go back and rework my other somewhat abandoned fic but right now I'm feeling Kingsman.) I can't promise super frequent updates, since I'm writing this between working 40+ hours as a delivery driver and a pro bono multimedia game developer intern while also trying to get a paid game dev intern/entry level job to start my career and also being an adult and and and ....
> 
> So if you've got questions about the whole Avian thing, go ahead and ask, but I can't promise I can answer all of them. Some things will be addressed eventually, and some things have certain scenarios they will be revealed in, so I won't be talking about those things. But, in general, I love talking about my birb people... Which leads me to why I even decided to write this.
> 
> It's easy: Birb people plus SPIES AND ALSO HOLY JEEZ I LOVE KINGSMAN A LOT EGGSY IS MY FAV. 
> 
> It mostly follows the movie plot, may tie in to some of the comic transcripts as well, but is mostly a divergence from canon due to spACE BIRBS AAAAAAAAAAA.
> 
> Thank y'alls for reading!
> 
> (maybe I'll write literally-a-fucking-star!Eggsy someday too)


End file.
